


On the Subject of Vegetables

by SpaceVikingLoki



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bugs, Dark Sides, Dark side dynamics/character exploration, Deceit is the responsible roommate, Housemates, Mentions of Violence, Mind Palace, Nudity, Other, Remus is a nightmare, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sympathetic Deceit, What you'd expect from Remus Sanders, gross stuff, shared living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:05:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceVikingLoki/pseuds/SpaceVikingLoki
Summary: Deceit is just trying to wind down from a long day of deception, but Remus, for all his colourful imagination, has never truly understood the concept of chill.In other words, Deceit and Remus have a little talk about Virgil and their plans for Thomas.Set sometime before Accepting Anxiety.





	On the Subject of Vegetables

Deceit skewered the last morsel of quiche, plopping it in his mouth and dragging the fork slowly from his lips. His feet were crossed lazily over the coffee table, a copy of The Deceivers: Military Deception propped in his hand as he chewed mechanically. The evening had crept into night somewhere in the last hour or so. Only the warm glow of a lamp lit Deceit’s form now, sending long shadows across the walls.

He let the book fall into his lap. He gazed beyond it, into the gloom.

Not a bad read, all in all. A bit dense on statistics and military jargon, but for that it was also unapologetically thorough. Deceit appreciated a book with too many details. It meant he could sift through the lot, plucking out the slivers that supported his arguments while disregarding the rest. And in defence of liars, it never hurt to have a few points in one’s pocket. Even without cherry-picking, history was full of celebrated maneuvers and medal-clad heroes who’s deceptions had accomplished great things. Many would cluck and squabble about the ethics afterwards, but attitudes like that didn’t win wars, did they?

Deceit lifted the book again. He peered at the tiny print, but the words blurred in and out of focus.

After attempting the same sentence for the third time, he decided bed was overdue. Thomas was already tucked up in his, and there was no more work to be done. He pulled himself up, stretching his arms over his head with a half-yawn. 

Gathering his dishes, Deceit made his way to the sink. He scraped the last crumbs into the compost and turned the faucet.

Nothing came out.

After a moment, a wet, sticky sound emanated from deep within the pipes. Something plump and lucid plopped into the sink. He leaned closer. It wriggled, arching back and forth against the metal. There was another sound, like mayo squelching from a container, and suddenly hundreds of them were spewing from the tap, their little bodies writhing and churning over the dishes. Deceit jerked back, watching as the twitching mass overflowed onto the counter and floor, dribbling across the tiles.

He sighed.

‘It’s late, Remus.’

The mound continued to grow and squirm as an oblong shape formed out of its depths.

‘And really now. Maggots? Last week it was worms in the toilets. I’d hardly call that a creative twist.’

The duke’s head and torso appeared, followed by a pair of dangling arms and legs. He sat full in the sink now, his posture relaxed as larva frothed around him like bubbles.

‘You want a creative twist? Here— he plucked a maggot from his cheek and pinched it between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. ‘Just a little twist and— presto! Two-for-one!’

Deceit blinked, wishing he’d just left the dishes for tomorrow instead. ‘Show-stopping, as always.’

The duke donned his usual expression, a kind of too-tight grin that pulled unnaturally wide at the edges, as if tiny hooks were pulling the lips beyond their capacity. Unfortunately, that was all he was wearing.

Remus cocked his head to the side. ‘Why the long face, Dee? I thought snakes loved grubs.’ He pulled a scrub brush from somewhere and began exfoliating his armpit with it, smushing a few poor creatures in the process.

Deceit breathed deeply through his nose. He didn’t need this right now. He really didn’t. Today had been demanding enough, what with Thomas wriggling out of his Friday night plans, a visit to the dentist (aka the bi-yearly Flossing Interrogation) and a call from his aunt Patty. Not to mention his daily rounds of denial, delusion and repression. Seeing not only to Thomas’s schedule, but the other sides’ as well, Deceit’s bullshit-tank was running at a dangerous low. And he, of all sides, had a hellishly big capacity for such. 

‘I prefer my protein a little higher up the food-chain,’ he said, wiping a stray maggot off his collar. 

Remus made a giddy sound that may or may not have been a giggle. ‘You sound tense. How’s about a bath before bed?’ he scooched over invitingly.

‘You know what I said about obstructing household amenities.’

The duke’s brows scrunched in thought, before he tried tentatively, ‘don’t?’

‘Very good,’ said Deceit. ‘I was beginning to think your ears were just for decoration.’

‘They do make nice fridge magnets.’ Remus slapped the side of his head, projectiling a maggot from the opposite ear. His face twisted into a pout. ‘No clogging amenities, no dismemberment on the furniture, no zombie orgies in the living room,’ he griped, counting off his fingers. ‘You’re not leaving me many creative outlets, Dee.’

Remus pushed himself up and out of the sink. Deceit politely averted his eyes as the side hopped down from the counter, shaking his body off like a dog and sending larva flying every which way. Though he could easily manifest clothes if he wanted, Remus was still quite naked when Deceit looked back again. He supposed he should be used to it by now.

‘Shared living comes with compromise,’ said Deceit with a clipped tone. ‘That’s just how it is,’

‘I don’t see _you_ making many compromises,’ jabbed the duke, giving his head one last shake.

Deceit refrained from mentioning that every moment in Remus’s company was compromising, to some degree. Instead he said, ‘My standard of living is more practical than yours. And besides, the bar has to be somewhere.’

‘True, but it’s hard to see when it’s so far up your—’

‘Enough.’

‘But Dee I’m _bored!’_ Remus whined, throwing up his hands in a dramatic fashion. Though the gesture was strikingly similar to a certain princely counterpart, Deceit would never say as much. ‘The Brady Bunch keep Thomas so rigid on the straight and narrow— well, narrow anyway— I’ve barely had any wiggle room to wiggle my waggle!’ Remus demonstrated by doing exactly that. ‘If I can’t let my creative juices out, they’ll burst out of me like a prom-night pimple on a pre-teen’s posterior!’

‘Thank you for the imagery.’

‘Alliteration was tip top too.’

‘But you’ll just have to... _wiggle your waggle_ —’ Deceit regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, ‘—in your own room. Like everyone else.’ Deciding the conversation over, he then turned away from Remus, abandoning the dishes and returning to the living room for his book. ‘Which is where I’m due now. Goodnight.’

Deceit heard something between a groan and a gargle from behind him. ‘That’s not _enough,_ ’ Remus moaned, launching himself over the back of the coach and bouncing into a cross-legged position. He was graciously clothed again. ‘Nursing Thomas the odd homicidal thought while paddling the pink canoe in my room isn’t gonna make an impression!’

‘I beg to differ,’ Deceit shuddered.

‘But you know what _would_ make an impression…’

Deceit turned to find Remus grinning up at him, eyes twinkling in a way that was less snowflakes on Christmas eve and more daggers in a dark pit.

‘No,’ said Deceit flatly. He tucked the book under his arm and made to go.

A hand grabbed the fabric of his shirt, stopping him. ‘Come on! What’s the harm in a little peek behind the curtain?’ 

A wave of anger rushed over Deceit. He turned on the side, drawing himself up into a full loom. ‘We’ve talked about this, Remus. We are to stay _out of sight, out of mind,’_ he hissed.

‘Imagine it though!’ Remus continued, undeterred. “All of us out in the open, helping Thomas realize his full potential! Lying and stealing and swindling his way to the top. Wreaking havoc and reeking of haddock! The freedom to satiate his deepest, dingiest desires! It would be—’

‘Disastrous.’

‘Not the D I was going for, but good instinct.’

‘You’re not _listening,_ ’ snarled Deceit, slapping Remus’s hand away. He felt a headache coming on, his patience wearing thinner than a molted snake skin. ‘As usual, you’re not seeing the big picture! If we expose ourselves now, we could lose our best vantage for influence.’

Remus slouched back into the couch, crossing his arms with a huff. ‘Which is?’

Deceit resisted the urge to throw his paperback at the other side’s head, but decided he didn’t want to damage it. He took another deep breath instead, exhaling vocally. ‘Well, since my last three attempts to explain have ricocheted off your temple of a brain, let me give you an example. Say you’ve got a— a child— who refuses to eat his vegetables.’

‘Because they’re the devil’s fruit?’

‘Uh... sure. And the parent, knowing they must be eaten, has two options. They can present the offensive greenery plainly, which the child will either snub or scream at or decorate the carpet with...’

‘Or?’

‘Or,’ Deceit raised a gloved finger, ‘they can disguise it as something more pleasant. A savoury pie, let’s say. The child eats the pie, the parent has successfully sustained their offspring with necessary nutrients, and the child is none-the-wiser.’

Remus got a pinched look about the face. Deceit swore he heard actual gears turning.

‘So… Thomas is the child?’

‘Correct.’

‘And I’m a vegetable?’

‘No— well, I suppose you could—’

‘And that makes you the pie?’

‘What? Why would _I_ be the pie? The pie is the _vessel_ for—’

‘Remember that time Thomas stuck a pea so far up his nose, his mother had to—’

‘You’re missing the point!’ Deceit yelled, scrubbing his hands over his face. _Gods,_ he just wanted to sleep. To sleep and sleep until everything made sense and everyone just understood what he said the first time he said it.

‘It’s not my fault your metaphors suck, Dee,’ Remus shrugged, excavating his nose. ‘Maybe leave those to the creatives.’

If Deceit were the crying type, this would certainly be the part of the conversation where he plummeted into a heaving, sobbing mess. Full-tilt, soap-opera breakdown on the carpet.

Thankfully, he was not.

‘Look,’ said Deceit, voice cracking slightly as he massaged the bridge of his nose. ‘For now, we do our best work from the shadows— from Thomas’s subconscious we can disguise our influence as sporadic thoughts and impulses. Half the time he doesn’t notice himself doing it, or when he does, he’s afraid to acknowledge it.’

‘But if we come out—’

‘—If we _come out_ , the others will explain how we work. And right now, Thomas listens to us because he’s afraid, and he’s afraid because he doesn’t _know,_ ’ Deceit’s voice was slow and taut, every word weighed by the gravity of needing Remus to understand. To get on his page.

He couldn’t allow the other side to stuff this up. He’d already looked over every possible angle and tactic of their situation, and this was the best way. If they were going to expose themselves, it would be when Thomas had no choice but to listen to them — when he was ready to take them in full. As they really were.

As of now, without that fear, Deceit wasn’t sure Thomas would listen to them at all.

Remus bobbed his head from side to side, visibly stewing in this information. After a moment, he spoke with unusual sobriety, his voice deep and even. 

‘You think fear is still on our side?’ 

Deceit scowled, glaring down at a dark stain on the floor. There was _that_ , of course.

‘Virgil only proves my point,’ he hissed quietly. ‘It’s no wonder he’s gone soft since stepping out. The way they break down his arguments at every turn… picking him apart. It’s pathetic.’ 

‘I heard him calming Thomas down _himself_ the other day,’ Remus whispered, a conspiratory glint in his eye.

Deceit’s frown deepened, feeling his body tense. He knew this would happen. He even told him as much. But Virgil refused to listen. He just had to go out and do things _his_ way. And now look at him. A nightmare turned minor inconvenience.

If that’s what he was content to be, so be it.

‘We won’t stay hidden forever,’ said Deceit gravely, lifting his eyes to meet Remus’s. There was a ferocity behind them now that burned past his fatigue. “We’ll make ourselves known when the time is right, when Thomas is off balance. Until then we’ll keep working on the others. Play up their insecurities and cause frissions between them. If we want Thomas to hear us properly, we’ll have to bring his cherished spokesmen down first.’

‘My brother always _was_ the favourite,’ Remus sniffed, twirling his moustache in annoyance as his mind travelled somewhere else. After a heavy silence between them, Remus sighed, shoulders shrugging forward in defeat. ‘ _Fine,_ I see your point.’ He wallowed for a moment longer, before the edge of a smirk tugged at his lips. ‘Can I at least pitch Thomas for a saucy threesome tonight? I’m thinking Freddy Kreuger and Mr. Rogers cast as plumbers— come to fix his squeaky, leaky faucet!’

Deceit opened his mouth to argue, but was distracted by the visual already playing out in his head.

Remus shrugged. ‘Boy hasn’t had a decent sex dream in weeks.’

Deceit sighed. He supposed the duke had been a little pent up in the Mind Palace lately. The exercise might wear him out a bit.

‘Fine, the night is yours,’ he relinquished, waving a hand absently and already knowing he would regret it. ‘Just keep it to a dull roar.’

Remus’s face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, if Christmas trees were made of barbed wire and radioactive acid baubles. ‘Oh you can trust this pussy-cat, Dee! Though I can’t promise there won’t be a little howlin and yowlin.’ He winked then, with all the subtlety of a vaudeville stage performer, before hopping clean through the floor, the glittering fabric of his shoulder pads flapping as he went.

For a moment, Deceit just watched the spot where Remus had disappeared, wondering if anything he’d said had truly gotten through, or if the duke would forget everything by morning. He decided to jump off that bridge when he came to it.

With one last yawn, Deceit pushed onward, ambling his way slowly up the stairs. 

Saying he felt _guilty_ would be a laughable stretch, but… Deceit couldn’t deny he felt a tinge of pity for Thomas when he let the duke run amok in his subconscious… especially on a work night.

Still, Remus was a part of him. And he deserved his time for expression, just like any of them. Even if that meant the odd dose of derangement.

Deceit sighed.

It was a thankless job, keeping the dark sides in check, but someone had to do it. Keeping Thomas padded from the true depths of himself had preserved him through childhood, but it could only last so long. Eventually Thomas would have to grow up. Face the reality of who he really was, deep down.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he chose not to. The dark sides could expose themselves, and Thomas could still refuse to accept them.

He could, potentially, reject them entirely.

Deceit huffed, shaking the thought away. 

Be that as it may, nobody could eat pie forever.

He continued up the stairs, his body feeling sluggish and heavy with every step.

He was just mulling over the possibility that Remus could, in fact, have been the vegetable in that scenario and if he was more of a zucchini or an eggplant kind of side, when something long and solid caught his foot. 

Thankfully, Deceit’s face was saved from full frontal impact by his arms, which had flailed out wildly by pure instinct. His collision with the floor had still been far from graceful however, as he lay sprawled out, the brim of his bowler hat tipped over his eyes. He grunted once, yanking himself over onto his back to inspect the offending object.

The steel mace sat squarely in the middle of the hallway, its long handle crossed too evenly across the floor to be an accident.

Deceit moaned, letting his head fall back onto the carpet.

He was very much looking forward to the day Thomas could manage the full brunt of himself, without any of Deceit’s intervention.

He really needed the sleep.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I don't know who Deceit is trying to fool. There isn’t a gravy or pastry shell on earth strong enough to hide the offal that is Remus Sanders =w=
> 
> Anwhoooo~ Hope you enjoyed this little ficlet. Might continue it if there's interest, but just needed to get this particular scene out of my head. I really like the idea of Deceit keeping the dark sides in check - and Remus just being a chaotic, stress-inducing tornado in the share space. Having lived with my fair share of horrendous housemates, I have a lot of sympathy for Deceit...


End file.
